TRP: Roddy and Joan (Helm)
Muse: 152: Candlenight. Gifts have all been given, everyone is milling around happily, and possibly some degree of drunk. Raef had good choice in ale. Roddy'd been extra-spiking his eggnog with it all night and it was gooooood. Maybe too good. Candlenight was good for a buzz, but Roddy should not be getting 'stand on the table singing' drunk. One more couldn't hurt though... Sneaking furtive glances as he poured more ale in his cup, he spotted Ripley. Off more to the side by herself. That wouldn't do. It was Candlenight! Roddy made up another cup, also extra-spiking this one, and wandered over. "Ripley! Hey Ripley. I made you eggnog," he said, shoving it in her hands as he settled down next to her. "I'm also slightly drunk but shh. That's a secret." He put his finger to his mouth and winked, grinning. Coyote: Joan snorted. She meant to snort, at least, but then it turned into a helpless laugh. "I think people know you're drunk, kid. Me too, though. Listen, stop callin' me Ripley, it's weird. I ain't your boss." She kicked her feet up on the side table. She'd been enjoying her space-- shit like this made her touchy-- but Hansel, to her amusement, had brought her one of the bottles of whiskey he'd gotten for Candlenights. Maybe because he'd noticed her getting touchy. Weird how that guy read people. Muse: "What am I s'possed to call you then?" Roddy asked blankly. "Hey you?" Hey that was funny. Roddy started snickering. He was a funny guy. Coyote: Joan snorted and lifted up the bottle. Ah, that was a funny joke. Like he didn't know her first name or something. Hahaha. Muse: Roddy's snickers faded and he leaned against her. Ripley was awesome he loved Ripley. Hey he should share that. "I love you Ripley," he said, pillowing his head on her shoulder. "Your like some- avenging- woman spirit thing. Lich. From- from the far coasts," he rattled, brandishing his cup. Spilling it a little too. "Whoops." Roddy downed the rest of it like it was a shot. There. No more mess! Coyote: "Roddy," Joan said. "Joan. Call me Joan." Deeply amused. "And don't wave your hands when you're carrying a cup, you little shit. That's good eggnog. Don't fuckin' waste it." She lit the pipe Goro got her. It looked dumb, but why not. Maybe Goro was right. Muse: "Who's Joan?" Coyote: "Me, you motherfucker," Joan said, still pretty amused. "I'm Joan. You got problems the same way with names y'do faces?" Muse: "Hey who said I got- gots problems with faces?" Roddy clutched his empty cup, eying her suspiciously. "That's suppose t'be secret." Coyote: Joan snorted again. "You used to mix up me and Amari all the time." Muse: Roddy thrust his finger in the air and started to say something. Stopped. Started to say something again. Stopped because she was right but he didn't want to admit it. Reached over and grabbed her hand, the right one, and pointed to the missing finger. "Not Amari, 'Mari's got all her fingers," he informed her. Let go and leaned back into the couch. "See, I know faces." Coyote: "Fingers," Joan said. "Y'know fingers. 's'all right, Roddy." She chuckled. "We all got our little weird spots." She kept smoking the pipe. "So how d'you tell Mishka apart from the other blond fucker?" She indicated the other blond fucker with her pipe. He was standing across the hall, chatting with Sugar. Joan didn't know his name yet. Weirdo. Muse: "Voice," Roddy answered. "Mishka's got unique accent. And the ear thing," he added, vaguely gesturing where it'd be on him- if he had ears. Hey wait. "You got me to confess," he said suspiciously. "You- you're sneaky." Coyote: "Sneaky," Joan said, squinting at him. "Me. I'm sneaky. Compared to..." She waved her pipe at the entire hall. "I mean, I ain't sneaky. Look at..." Then she stopped. She waved her pipe at the entire hall again. She'd meant to point someone out specifically, but frankly, she was less sneaky than literally all of them. 'cept maybe.... Raef? Naw, he was sneaky too. Sneaky assassin. Muse: Roddy eyed the motely bunch that was his team/gang/family?/whatever. Yeah. They were all sneaky. "You fit in," he said, with as much dignity and aplomb as he could manage while this tipsy. And had to grab the back of the couch to keep himself from falling out as he leaned too far forwards. Coyote: "It'd be hard to fit out, with this lot," Joan said. "What a motley fuckin' crew." Her eyes fell on Luci. She remembered the little shrine she'd set up for the girl; a small statue to Eldath and a pool of water. There was a room with little carved niches into it. They could add other gods. She'd already made a shrine to Io. She was gonna make one for whatever fuckin' god Goro worshipped, but she had no clue who it was. As long as it wasn't Bane. "Hey," Joan said. "What god d'you worship now? Maybe we oughta go set up a shrine to 'em." Muse: "Tol' you, Helm," Roddy muttered, staring at his cup. He should get more booze. But the couch was so comfy. But booze. "'Member? We was splashing around in the water close by," he offered helpfully. Coyote: Joan laughed, shaking her head, and took another drink of whiskey. Muse: Belatedly it sunk in, what she'd been saying. "Oh. Yeah prolly should set up a shrine. Is beeeen a while since I had one though. Hey hey you know how to set-up a Helm shrine?" He grabbed at her arm, tugging at her elbow. "C'nyou give me a hand?" Coyote: Oh. Oh, he wasn't kidding. Joan opened her mouth to speak, stopped, held it open, then slowly shut it. Mishka told her this thing recently about, uh, fuckin', like, thinking about... the consequences of what she said... before she said things. So if she laughed and told Roddy that Helm was dead, then what would that do? Okay. Man. She could do this. It would make... it would make Roddy... it would make Roddy upset. Yeah. Okay. So. She couldn't, uh, she couldn't say that. What else could she say? Maybe she could avoid the subject? God no, she was so fucking bad at that. Even drunk, Roddy would definitely notice. Shit. Muse: Roddy paused, squinting at Ripl- wait no Joan, Joan now. Roddy squinted at Joan and tried to figure out what was up. She'd just froze. That was weird. "Joan?" he asked, reaching up and poking her cheek. Harder than he meant to- blamed it on the ale. "You there? Mishkaaaaaa!" he called, looking around. "I think I broke Ripley!"(edited) Coyote: "Yeah, uh." Joan sat up, uncrossing her legs. Shit. Mishka was curled up with his husband by the fire, splayed in Hansel's lap. Mishka shot them an amused look, then uncurled and stretched. He swept his wide-brimmed pirate hat off the floor, feather and all, and put it on again. He padded over. Mishka looked a bit drunk-- and in a very good mood. He was fiddling with a small black figurine; it looked like a burnt chunk of wood. "Oh? You broke Joan? How's that, motek?" Muse: "I dunno we were talking about shrines and then she kinda just stopped," Roddy babbled. "But she's back now. Hi Joan!" Roddy draped his arm over her and gave her a hug. Maybe he just panicked a little, Joan didn't look broken any more. Hey wait. "Hansel calls me that. Mo-motek. Wassit mean?" he asked. It was Hansel so it had to be nice. But now Mishka was too. Made a warm bubbly feeling- bubble in Roddy's chest. Coyote: "Dunno," Mishka said. "I don't speak orcish. You should ask him." Fuckin' liar, Joan thought. So full of shit. God, she loved it, though. What a motherfucker. Joan kicked him in the shin. Mishka narrowly dodged it. His mouth twitched up. "You're drunk," he said. "You're drunk," Joan said. She attempted to flip him off with both fingers and accidentally dropped the bottle of whiskey. Whoopsie.(edited) Muse: "I got it!" Roddy said, and dove for the bottle. Without unhugging Joan. Didn't work that well. Itl hit the floor followed by Roddy, and, he was fairly certain he'd headbutted Joan on the way down. "...We're all drunk," he declared. Coyote: "Fuck you," Joan chuckled. "Yeah alright." She heaved Roddy back up onto the couch. "Settle down, Turtle Kid. You're crack your shell. Ain't no good to anybody all broken." "Pardon me," Mishka said. "Did you call me over here just to tell me you were all drunk? Is that it?" He stuck the burnt figurine in his pocket, stopped fiddling with it. "Darling," he said to Joan. "I can take you to bed and get you some water if you like--" "Ah, shit, no," Joan said. "Listen, I don't know how to tell Roddy Helm is dead." Muse: It took a second for Roddy to register what Joan had said. Crack his shell, he had a sturdy shell. That was the point of shells. Kept you safe an' didn't crack (except maybe that one time but that was different) and- and- wait. What had Joan just said. "What? Helm's dead?" Roddy blurted, staring at Joan, wide eyed. "But that's- he's a god you don't just- gods just don't die!" Coyote: Joan's head whipped around. She and Mishka both stared at Roddy. Then Mishka and Joan looked at each other. They stared at each other for several seconds. "Well frankly this sounds like a you problem," Mishka said. And he immediately walked back over to Hansel and sat down next to Ombre. Muse: "Hey! I'm right here!" Roddy flailed his arms around, looking distressed. "You just- can't just- would- talk- dead?" Roddy was too drunk for this. Or too sober for this. Wasn't sure which. Coyote: "Shh, shh, shh," Joan said, steadying him. She wrapped one arm around her shoulder. She saw Hansel to do that to the kid sometimes, and it seemed to work. She couldn't fit her arms around him that much, though. She wasn't that big. "Listen. Listen, it's fine. It wasn't, like, a recently thing. He's been dead for like. Three hundred years? It's fine. It's fine." Muse: Roddy automatically started to half hug her back- then caught himself and pushed back a little. "What! And- how long did- how long did you know this?" Roddy was reeling. Admittedly he was not a very devout follower, but Helm had been part of his life longer than- anything else, at this point. The memories were hazy, but he could remember a warm voice explaining as he lit incense. Friendly hands helping him through the rituals. It'd been- a haven, for a while, somewhere to go to be included. Instead of shuttled off to the back and told to stop asking questions. And- apparently even that had been built on a lie. Coyote: Joan's face. Aw, shit. Her eyes shifted to Mishka. Fuckin' Mishka. Making her deal with this shit. Then her eyes shifted back to Roddy. Alright. She'd fucked up, here. She could tell. She had known a while-- ever since they'd met-- she'd known ever since she first got to Skyport. She thought hard about what she was going to say. She thought hard about what would upset Roddy, and what was the right thing to do. The right thing that would... help him understand. Yeah. She could do this. "Roddy, look," Joan said. "I've known, uh. Since... well, the beginning. It's a story I was taught when I was younger." She wet her lips. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Y'know, in Skyport, worship of other gods is-- well, it was illegal. I was fuckin' scared if you-- found out, somethin' bad might happen to you. I'm sorry. I should have told you." Muse: Roddy was quiet a long moment. Staring off at the wall, slowly digesting this. Helm was dead, and had been dead long before Roddy was even born. Before- before Neal had even been born. And Ripley'd known and she'd never said. "Yeah you should have," he said bitterly, turning to glare at her. "That's- that's my god Ripley, I have a right to know about this! You can't just- you shouldn't- I-" he cut off, hugging himself and sinking down in the couch. "Should've told me," he muttered reproachfully. Coyote: "I'm sorry, Roddy," Joan said. And she went quiet. Sober. "You're right. You had a right to know. I just didn't want people getting... fuckin' hurt. Didn't know who I could tell. But you're right. You did." Muse: Roddy made vague grumbly noises. Yeah. She better be sorry. Roddy didn't- didn't deserve to be kept in the dark. He was too sober for this. "I'm gonna-" he vaguely gestured at the room at large. "See ya." He beelined for where he put the ale, not bothering to extra-spike the eggnog this time and just chugging it strait out of the bottle. Probably shouldn't get drunk like this right around everyone else. Roddy started heading off for his room- he'd get his presents tomorrow. Better to go be where- where he was alone. December 22, 2018 Coyote: at 12:08 PM Normally it was the sort’ve thing that might set Joan off. But she was working on it— and yeah, it made her sad, seeing the kid go— and she’d had a really good night. She went to sit with Goro instead. She recognized the way he was edging around people, the way he was watching people enviously. She used to do that shit too. Probably didn’t help, though. Muse: at 4:05 PM Roddy ended up in his room, getting blazing drunk. He was feeling a weird, confusing mix of emotions, and it hurt. So he kept drinking till he forgot. And then he passed out. Woke up with a hangover the next morning. Ugh. Figured. After some time burrowed under the blankets, trying to pretend he was still asleep, Roddy finally gave up and wandered downstairs. Should get something in his stomach- water if nothing else. "Hi Joan," he said blearily, trudging by. Clattered around in the kitchen a moment, and then walked by again carrying a glass of water. Hang on. Joan. They'd had a talk, she'd told him about Helm and- Right. He should- talk to her again. Roddy backtracked a bit, sliding into another one of the chairs. "You uh, mind if I join you?" Coyote: at 5:56 PM Joan still winced at bit at the light coming in through the big windows. God, she was hungover. She growled a bit when Roddy came over; then it faded into a grumble. Just Turtle Kid. "Sure, siddown." She scooted over to give him some more space. She took a long drink of water and kept peeling her orange. Muse: at 5:59 PM Roddy settled in, taking a swig of his water- ugh that was not feeling good right now, hopefully it'd stay down- and just sat there a moment. Slowly formulating what he wanted to say. "So uh. I kinda walked off on you last night," he eventually said, staring at the tabletop. Coyote: at 6:01 PM Joan grumbled again. Talking. It was too early in the morning for talking. Well--technically it was afternoon, but fuck it. It was always too early for talking. "Yeah," she said. "You okay?" Muse: at 6:03 PM Roddy took a second to think. "No. Not really." Sighing, he pushed his glass back and folded his arms on the table, propping his chin on them. "I mean. S'not every day you hear 'your god's dead' and all. You're- you're sure about that?" he asked, looking over at her. "That's not just- some fairytale you grew up with is it?" Coyote: at 6:06 PM "Mm. Dunno. Could be full of shit," Joan muttered. She shrugged. "I mean, it sounds like a fuckin' fairytale when you hear it. Sounds like one of those bullshit stories Mishka tells. Bit exaggerated, probably partially true, that kind of shit." Muse: at 6:08 PM Roddy nodded and started fiddling with his glass, turning it around and around in a circle. "Would you tell it to me?" he asked, quietly. Coyote: at 6:11 PM Joan looked up, squinting at him. She took a long drink of water, then wiped her mouth. "Yeah, I'm no good at telling stories," she muttered. But Roddy had a right to know. "I mean, I'll try. 'S a long story, and I'm probably gonna get bits wrong. So. You know how gods at made?" Muse: at 6:11 PM "Uh." Roddy squinted, trying to think. "I've heard some stories, but none of 'em ever really agreed. So I guess not." Coyote: at 6:17 PM "Well-- see, each god, they have something called a divine spark," Joan said. "'s what makes 'em, y'know, gods. You can't become a god without a spark. And when an old god dies, a new one gets their spark. See?" Muse: at 6:18 PM Roddy nodded slowly. Yeah, that made sense. Coyote: at 7:15 PM "Yeah. Sorry, I'm getting to the point. Some gods are born gods," Joan said. "But some gods are born mortals, raised up. Three hundred years ago, Iomedae was mortal." She paused, trying to figure out how to tell this story. Wasn't fuckin' good at it. "She was a paladin of god the Helm," Joan said. "Real boss bitch. Fiery. And she wanted to find a way to make herself strong so she could better serve her god. Helm was never a bad god. Protected people. Good god for people like you. Iomedae loved her god, Roddy. She really did. “Each day, Iomedae prayed for her god to talk to her, but he never did. Helm had millions of worshippers. Real fuckin’ popular guy. She fought to find a way to get him to recognize her. She rose to the top of her class. Finest paladin in the land. But still, nothing. But she wanted to get stronger. “Then one day, something happened,” Joan said. “The god Mask—god of thieves—he got into a quarrel with Helm. And he heard Iomedae whispering prayers, and he decided to play a trick.” December 23, 2018 Muse: at 12:51 PM "I always said couldn't trust that guy," Roddy muttered, more to himself than Joan. Other than that, he stayed quiet, enraptured by the story. Coyote: at 3:04 PM "Eh," Joan said. "Gods, y'know. They fight." She shrugged. “Gods can’t normally step into the mortal realm,” Joan said. “They’re confined to the Outer Planes—a place mortals can’t normally go. Mask disguised himself as Helm, and he came to Iomedae in her dreams. He began whispering in her ear at night. He sent her on a series of quests, and he promised her that if she completed them, he would make her immortal. “Iomedae was a devout woman. She wanted only to please her god. So she began to work. “Mask sent her to collect the pieces of a weapon called Godsbane,” Joan said. “A sword capable of slicing an immortal in half with a single blow. And in her journeys, Iomedae became powerful. Powerful enough to kill a god.” “Helm wasn’t a bad god, but he made a mistake,” Joan said. “He had too many followers. His religion grew too large. Despite Iomedae’s power, he never even noticed her, and he never noticed the trick Mask was playing.” Joan’s voice grew quiet. “After years of questing—and years of Mask whispering in her ear—Iomedae completed her quest. She had the sword, Godsbane. And she was powerful." Joan spread her hands as if opening something. “Mask gave her her reward,” Joan said. “He opened a portal to the Outer Plane of Mechanus, where Helm lived. He lied. He claimed a false god had imprisoned Helm and was impersonating him. He asked Iomedae to go to Mechanus and slay him. And Iomedae—in her fury—did.”(edited) Muse: at 3:11 PM Roddy leaned forwards, enraptured by the story. Feeling- bad for Iomedae, even if she had been the one to kill his god. "And- and then she became a god herself?" he asked. Coyote: at 3:11 PM “Yeah,” Joan said. “Y’know that thing I said about how gods have… divine sparks?” Muse: at 3:12 PM Roddy nodded, waiting for Joan to explain. Coyote: at 3:18 PM “When a god dies, it creates a hole in the universe, and a new god has to fill it,” Joan said. “The god of justice lay dead… and so a new god of justice was born. Even though Iomedae had committed this terrible, fucked-up crime, in his last moments, her god recognized her. And he forgave her. He wept for her, and he gave her his divine spark. And Iomedae ascended.” Joan came back to herself. Finished off her orange juice. “Iomedae is the goddess of redemption,” she said. “She’s the god of people who’ve seriously fucking fucked up, Roddy. She’s the god of people who want to do better. And that’s me. I want to do better.” Joan set down her cup. “I mean, she does other shit too,” Joan said. “Y’know, battle, and hardcore justice and shit. I’m sorry your god is dead, Roddy. I’m sorry. I ain’t perfect. I should’ve told you. And I didn’t.” Muse: at 3:24 PM Oh- right. For a moment Roddy'd forgotten- why Joan was telling the story in the first place. Because he'd gotten upset. Because she'd been keeping a secret for as long as he'd known her. And now it was out and Roddy didn't know what to feel. "How- how sure are you it's true?" he asked slowly. Coyote: at 4:03 PM "Oh, I have no goddamn clue," Joan said. "I mean, I'm pretty sure. Who knows. As far as I can tell, the Helm worshippers in the city... they don't know. Bane's giving them their power. Not Helm. Some of the very top clerics-- they know. Fred knows." She fiddled with the pipe in her pocket. "I feel like if Helm were alive, he'd object to his name being used to conquer the city from the shadows. Y'know." Muse: at 4:08 PM "Yeah," Roddy said, drumming his fingers on the table. This was a lot to take in. Too much for the moment. "I think- I'm gonna go take off and- think a while." He reached out, resting his hand on Joan's shoulder. "I'm um. I'm glad you did tell me now though. Thank you." Coyote: at 4:22 PM "Well, if you've got more questions, let me know," Joan said. "I mean I won't be able to goddamn answer 'em, probably, just fuckin' let me know I guess and we can be confused over 'em together." Probably told half of it wrong. Who knew. Muse: at 4:33 PM "I'm always confused, at least this time I'll have company," Roddy joked, grinning. It didn't quite reach his eyes. Still working through the story Joan has told. He wanted to say something else, couldn't think of what. So he patted her shoulder again, and pushed up to go. END Title: Helm Summary: Joan tells Roddy about what happened to Helm. He doesn't take it well. Category:Text Roleplay